


New Beginnings (like fireworks at the end of the night)

by Milothatches, Scho_s



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Fireworks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attack, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milothatches/pseuds/Milothatches, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scho_s/pseuds/Scho_s
Summary: Blakefield Winter Wonderland Day 31: New Year's Eve Kisses
Relationships: Tom Blake & William Schofield
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: Walking In A Blakefield Wonderland





	New Beginnings (like fireworks at the end of the night)

**Author's Note:**

> I am so so excited for this one!! Wally and I cooperated and I have to say I really like what came out of it! I hope we live up to the expectations of the last prompt of the event! 
> 
> A BIG Thank You to everyone who made this event possible, to everyone who participated and to everyone who reads this and leaves a nice comment :) 
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR

Both Tom and Will had been hesitatingly anticipating the holiday for weeks. 

Both of them were aware of what New Year’s entailed, and weren’t sure how either of them were going to react – Christmas had been a quiet affair, and so had Boxing Day. It was New Year’s Eve that the news came about some of the others, the many lost men left in Britain stumbling from a loud sound, only to cower in fear, or to lash out. It was the cruellest curse; to fear anything. A couple had started lighting fireworks a whole day early, and it had left the husband suddenly bedridden. 

“If anything happens,” Will said quietly, “I love you. I – I don’t want to do anything to hurt you, and I _won’t_ , but if I do on accident I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t blame you, for anything. I think the same should be said for me, if I do something. Whether it’s me panicking or doing something else wrong,” Tom comforted, stroking a thumb over where their hands are clasped. Will doesn’t say anything more, and Tom attempts to find the right words. 

“Do you have any ideas on what I could do to help?” He offered, to which Will shrugged in response. 

“All I can ask is that you listen to me,” Will said. “If I need to do something, as long as it isn’t hurting anything, that you let me.” 

“Of course, dear.” Tom placed a kiss over their connected hands, prompting Will to chuckle. 

It wasn’t long before the day came, leaving them both tensed for the inevitable. Tom only hoped that nothing happened, and that they both were able to separate the sounds from the memories; but it is best to be prepared, and so they let themselves be. Tom had taken the day off, as he had not been given the holiday from work like Will had – he was able to spend the whole day with Will, loving freely without fear, and he treasured it. 

As the sun kept moving higher, Will would start speaking in much shorter sentences, withdrawing himself. Tom knew this was his own way of preparing mentally, and so he did not force him to say anything, instead telling as many stories as he could. Tom’s voice was a comfort to him, though he did not know why – maybe it was just listening to him, or knowing that Tom was still there. 

Will reassured everything was in its place, and began cleaning frantically. There was not a speck on the dishes, or any dust left on the countertops, and yet he still cleaned it thoroughly. Tom just watched, whether from the sitting room or while helping, making sure Will did not go too far into his head. There was only once where Tom had to stop him, using gentle words to urge him it was enough, and he could check again later if he still felt it wasn’t. 

It was barely late afternoon when the first bang came, the sun just barely setting. They had been finishing the dinner Tom had made them, despite Will being the better cook – the sound was abrupt, and there was no preparing for it. Will had frozen, before the next _BOOM_ came and he sent their silverware clattering. In nearly the blink of an eye, he was crawling under the table, face reserved and emotionless. After a moment – just barely a second – he seemed to remember Tom, too, and pulled on his arm so that Tom would be hidden under the table with him. 

There was the sharp crackling of sparks, and another loud distant _BOOM._ Will was shaking, but he had not realized it, nor had he let go of Tom. 

“They’re just fireworks, dear.” Tom whispered, trying his best to soothe Will. 

“No!” yelled Will, his eyes wide and unfocused as he looked around frantically, attempting to locate the danger. “It can’t be, it’s too early.” 

“Some people are idiots,” Tom said, “they start lighting them too early.” A very loud boom echoed in the air, and he quickly reached for Will’s face in an attempt to calm him down, but that was clearly the wrong move. 

Will pulled away from him harshly, panicked. He did the only thing he could remember how to do: he ran. Will clambers out from under the table, stumbling to his feet before running at the sound of more fireworks being set off. Tom let him; it was irrational to give chase, and it would only make things harder, in the long run. It was better to let Will do what he felt was safe. Tom knew this better than anyone, having his own moments of sharp panic and fear in the past. He can’t be approached quickly, and hesitates at the sight of anyone holding a knife – even if it is Will. 

Tom wrings his hands, silently waiting and counting in his head for how long it would take for Will to find a comfortable place to hide. Everything in his heart aches, but he would rather shoot himself in the foot than scare Will. Eventually, he deems that enough time has passed, and quietly makes his way through the house to where Will had run – their bedroom. 

Tom hesitates at the door, before hesitantly knocking. He can barely hear anything. 

“Will?” Tom asked gently as he opened the door to their bedroom. The room was pitch dark, and only the occasional light of the fireworks lit up the room. There was a noticeable bump on the bed where Will was hiding, and Tom walked towards it, making sure to let himself be heard. He knew that Will didn’t like it if he snuck up on him. 

“Will, dear?” He asked again, softly planting a hand on the sheet-covered form in the bed. “It’s alright.” 

A sequence of extremely loud bangs went off somewhere in the distance and Tom felt Will’s form shiver and shake underneath the safe comfort of the blankets. Tom himself had to close his eyes too, trying to ground himself. _It’s just fireworks,_ he had to tell himself. _You’re not getting shot at_ _,_ _you’re_ _not bleeding out. You’re not dying._

Tom breathed out slowly, getting his thoughts in order as he sat down on the bed, careful not to sit on Will. He looked at the clock: _23.56,_ it read. Not New Year yet, but the fireworks outside where already lighting up the sky in a wide variety of colours. 

“Why don’t we go take a look?” He suggested, stroking Will’s back through the blanket. Will did not answer. “You’ll see there aren’t any guns.” 

A faint mumble came out from under the covers in response. Tom lifted them gently, the fireworks illuminating Will’s body in a foetal position underneath, slightly shivering from the sudden loss of warmth. 

“Sorry, what was that?” He asked, glad that Will at least had the energy to talk to him. 

“But what if there are?” Will repeated himself. 

“There won’t be.” 

“But... what if there _are_.” 

Tom sighed, and Will felt guilt eating him up from inside. He knew he was being difficult, he knew that _logically_ , there couldn’t be any guns. But he was so, _so_ scared. 

“Will,” Tom started. He reached for Will’s trembling hand and tenderly took it, running his thumb over his boyfriend’s lean fingers. “Come with me. Please?” 

Hesitation clouded over Will’s sea blue eyes. 

“Nothing will happen. I promise.” 

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Will sat up and immediately buried his head in Tom’s broad chest, arms weaving to hold him close. “I trust you.” He whispered, knowing that saying this meant a lot for the both of them. 

“Okay. C’mon.” Tom helps Will out of the bed, holding on to him tightly, shielding him from the dangers of the outside world. Tom led them out of their bedroom, back to the front door. He put on his coat, helped Will to slip into his, and wrapped Will’s auburn scarf protectively around his neck. The sounds of the firework display increased exponentially as Tom opened the door and led the way into the chilly air outside. They were careful not to slip in the snow or on the icy roads, holding onto each other for balance. 

Will squeezed his hand tightly, nearly crushing the bones beneath as annoying hisses followed by thundering booms filled the air. 

“It’s okay.” Tom repeated. “Look at the pretty colours!” He chuckled, pointing at a particularly pretty design up in the sky, in means of a distraction. Will managed a shy smile. 

“One minute left!” Tom yelled after casting a glance at his wristwatch. “And then it’s 1920. Can you even believe it?” 

“I can’t.” Will said, doing his very best to hide the tremor in his voice. “The year’s flown by.” 

“It really has! A new decade, it’s _mad._ ” 

“Hopefully a better one.” Will replied, in a softer tone. He hoped that _the_ _war to end all wars_ was truly that. 

A few of their neighbours had also come outside to watch the display, and Tom greeted them with a wave. They were on neutral terms, and were aware of their relationship. They might not all approve of it, but they still had the idea that Tom and Will’s relationship was the result of trauma from the war. _Let them believe that,_ Tom thought, _as long as_ _Will and I are happy together, I don’t care what others think about us._

Tom knew that Will had more difficulty with the disapproving looks of others. Luckily, they knew that their neighbours would never snitch on them, or have them arrested for their “illegal practices.” They were a tight-knit community, and recognized love as it was. 

_“_ _Ten_ _!”_ Others around them chanted in union, and Tom soon joined in. 

_“_ _Nine_ _..._ _Eight_ _!”_ Will stayed quiet, clearly preparing himself for the sheer number of explosives that surely were going to fire soon. 

“Seven _!”_

_“_ _Six_ _!”_ Tom prodded Will in the ribs in an attempt to get that scared, anticipating look of his face, and succeeded. Will let out a laugh, and started quietly counting along with everyone else. 

_“_ _Five_ _..._ _Four_ _..._ _Three_ _!”_ Will pulled Tom impossibly closer to him - he wanted to start the new year with Tom by his side, and hopefully never let go. 

_“_ _Two_ _!”_ He smiled at his boyfriend, appreciating the man in front of him, heart surging warmly with love. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve him. 

_“_ _One_ _!”_ People yelled around them, congratulating each other on the new year. The fireworks began to go off at once, hissing and sparking. But Tom pulled Will closer and pushed their lips together, and everything around them disappeared. He could only focus on their lips together, their bodies flush against each other’s. Will’s fingers combing through his hair, and Tom’s hands on Will’s back, holding him protectively. He felt Will’s shaky breath on his face, and Tom opened his eyes to gaze into Will’s; at last, not filled with panic, but with love. 


End file.
